


Pinioning (God of War)

by Farore



Category: God of War (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Don't Read This, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Please Don't Hate Me, Possessive Behavior, Prequel, Psychological Horror, Threats of Violence, Violence, ish, marital rape, non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-05-07 17:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19214104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farore/pseuds/Farore
Summary: The foreboding story of Freya and her grim life as the wife of a brilliant man slipping in and out of deranged madness.(This one is heavy y'all, it may not be for everyone. Please mind the ratings and warnings.)





	1. Bound together in rich silk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown or fanfiction.net it has been reposted without my permission.

The blood-soaked forests of Midgard were disturbingly quiet. Freya knew this realm well, it had become a commonplace to see and hear the distressed screams of soldiers recklessly throwing themselves at each other all for someone else's war. All these rotting lifeless bodies around her, how many of these soldiers were slain by her own hand? When did she become so numb to all this? Maybe _this_ was all a part of his little game? Slowly she sank down to the crimson stained ground and placed an unblemished hand onto a trampled flower. A warming sensation reverberated out from her chest and down her arm. As she feathered her touch along the wilted petals of the plant, her magic rejuvenated life back into it. She paused, unsure if she made things better or simply more depressing with this act?  
A single flower standing tall and beautiful among a field of death. 

“Freya,” a warm comforting voice called to her. She felt his touch before turning to look upon her beloved. Her brother Freyr.  
“I should have done more to prevent Mimir’s idea from coming into fruition,” he says, leaning more of his weight into the side of her arm. He was kneeling down next to her, his face wrought with grief and shame.  
“You can still back out of this, I-I’ll find another way.” Freya studies her twin brother’s face for a few moments, the scar on his right eye was still festering from the last battle.  
Odin’s doing.  
Freyr was always reckless in his battles, but to go up against Gungnir with such a foolhardy bloodlust? Freya darts her eyes away from his wound, the memory was still too raw to dwell upon. The way she found him bleeding out at Odin’s feet. The unyielding rage fueled duel she and the king of the Aesir had that followed.  
She almost lost Freyr that day, she almost lost everything.

This war, this death, it must end. Even if it means going through with, _this._  
“Remember when we were children hiding from father’s wrath?” Freya said smiling down at the flower. With a faint touch, she brushes the velvety petals. “You told me you would protect me from him, from anything that would try and come between us. You said you’d build us an enchanted ship that would sail us to Alfheim. Once we found a new home with the elves you'd fold it up and keep it in your pocket." Her smile breaks slightly as tears begin to pool in the back of her eyes. The memories of her childhood left a bittersweet taste on her tongue.  
Those happy days, they may be the last time she tastes sweetness for the rest of her life.  
“It was always the other way around.” He said as he extended his own hand out next to her. From the ground emerged a once wilted flower alongside her own. It was shorter and leaned slightly towards Freya’s more prosperous one. “You ended up protecting me whenever we would get in trouble.” His voice was somber and oozing with heartbreak. Freya's tears were becoming more and more difficult to hold back as the tides of reality continued pulling her further and further away from him.  


This really was about to happen, isn't it?  
To marry the wicked man who brought so much death and pain to her family?  
To give up her freedom, her carefree days with her brother?  
This unending war, how far back did she have to dwell upon before she even recalled a carefree day?  
“I wish I could go back. I should have run away with you all those years ago.” She rashly let the ill-advised words escape her mouth.  
“Freya!” Freyr said as he rushed her into his arms recklessly. His knees crushing both flowers beneath him.  
For a moment, Freya sat lifeless in her brother's arms before embracing him with her trembling hands. 

Neither of them held back tears while in each other's loving embrace.

* * *

“You will remain silent, both of you,” their father’s voice reverberated down at them. Freya and Freyr nodded respectfully with their backs straight and shoulders up. “He’ll try to manipulate the deal. By keeping quiet we’ll secure a better outcome not just for us, but all life in the realms.” Njord was not typically a nervous man. But this parley between the Aesir and Vanir brought about by Odin’s foreign adviser sparked a hesitation in Freya’s father the likes she had never seen before.  
Two shadows in the shape of ravens appeared below them on the ground. Freya steadied her breathing, she looked over at her brother, the muscles in his lower jaw twitching violently. Her wings flexed, brushing against his skin in the hopes of calming him down.  
“Freya, shoulders up,” Njord says silently at her with his weapon sheathed. “Time to see if this Goat lives up to his reputation.” 

Thunder rumbles in the distance, reflexively her pulse elevates in response to the all too familiar sound. From the sky a rainbow bolts down from the grey clouds and three figures descent down the colorful archway.  
The Aesir.  
Mimir was the first to greet them. His two glowing eyes always caused Freya to question the true meaning behind his smiles, she could always read people through their eyes, but Mimir didn't have any. His hands were hidden behind the oversized sleeves of his robe.  
“Forgive the tardiness, my lords, my lady.” He quickly brought both hands outward in a welcoming gesture towards her father. “I’m happy to find you in good health, my friend.”  
“I’m not your friend yet,” Njord said stoically as he extended his hand out to peacefully embrace the goat-like man.  
“Maybe cutting off his tongue will teach him a lesson in manners.” a cocky adolescent voice echoed behind Mimir. Thor.  
Never before had a teenager brought upon so much fear in Freya. Then again, Thor was unlike any teenager she’d ever met. He towered over every member present at the parlay. His body free of any cloak, his freshly forged, terrifying hammer hung by his hips for all to see.  
Freyr clenched his fists as his position shifted ever so slightly into an offensive stance. Thor noticed. An arrogant smile tugged his fiery red beard upwards. “Try it, yah sister fucker. Still think I should be the one who gets to pound the little birdy, instead of my old man.” 

“That’s enough,” the voice behind the two said calmly. Freya silently inhaled as her eyes found their way to the slender, silver-haired man. 'The Allfather' he called himself, her future husband, Odin. 

She forced herself to exhale calmly as she stood tall, presenting her chest outwards in a powerful stance. Her father insisted she don a ridiculous paper-thin blue dress to this meeting, it clung to her body and emphasized every curve she was blessed with. Odin approached the three of them, his single eye looking only upon Freya. He planted Gungnir into the ground alongside himself.  
“Speak quickly, Njord. I would like to have a moment alone with your daughter,” Odin said through a meticulously groomed silver beard.  
He was the same height as Freya, but he somehow made her feel as though he was looking down upon her from an elevated position. They had crossed paths countless times before, but never like this.  
Whenever Freya saw Odin on the battlefield she would dedicate every ounce of her strength to attacking him head-on. He was the foundation, if she killed Odin, the rest of the Aesir would soon crumble.  
But she wasn't about to battle him today… or was she? 

She took on a different type of offensive stance. 

Freya tilted her chin down slightly but kept her doe eyes now looking upwards at him. Her wings fluttered ever so slightly, just to remind him of their existence. His gaze moved to them, studying her golden feathers, while he was distracted she heaved her chest in an unnoticed exhale. Her small but very apparent breasts bouncing quickly up and down with her movement. Odin’s lips parted slightly, before being quickly pressed together.  
“I believe Mimir has already spoken to you about the terms of our agreement,” Njord said. “We will accept no alterations. But I come today demanding one additional request from you.”  
Panic began to show in Mimir’s face as he quickly separated his hands and jolted his head to face Odin.  
“This is why you never offer these freaks a goddamn thing.” Thor roared as he placed his hand onto Mjolnir. Freyr in return began to summon a wisp of magic from his chest to bring his enchanted sword to life. “They’ll keep asking for more and more until…-”  
“Silence,” Odin said, still keeping his eye on Freya. She never took her innocent yet seductive gaze off him. “What do you want, Njord?”  
“Passageway to Asgard.”  
“I beg pardon?” Mimir blurted out.  
“Go fuck yourself. If you think I’ll sleep in the same palace as you swine.” Thor spat.  
Freya darted her eyes over to her father, astonished he even took her request to ask them this at all. She wouldn't be all alone in the jaws of the Aesir this way. She would get to live with her brother and father. She needed this to work. Freya returned her lidded eyes slowly back to Odin, tilting her head slightly- exposing the silky smooth skin of her neck from underneath her hair. She quickly forced a blushed upwards pull of her lips directed at Odin.  
“Done,” Odin said.  
“Father, you can’t be serious!?” Thor twisted angrily at the Allfather. In a quick snap of his neck, Odin looked at his son. His face shifted into an expression that terrified Freya almost as much as his spear did. 

“Speak to me in that tone again and I’ll show you all the courtesies your heritage warrants.” 

Where Thor’s voice spoke with a slow booming sensation of thunder, Odin’s was lightning. Instant, blinding, and a destructiveness one couldn't comprehend until after the strike diminished.  
Thor took his hands off Mjolnir and held them clenched at his side. Freyr halted his spell, taken aback by this sudden ghastly display.  
“Now, I would like a moment alone with…-” Odin began.  
“Allfather,” Freya interrupted him. This was the first time she ever called him by this title. Odin paused, allowing her to continue.  
“In our culture, you see, we value our purity to ensure that, when the time comes...”  
Mimir took over. “Ah yes, the uh.” Mimir leaned closer to Odin, “the thing we spoke about earlier, so not until the deed is done, your grace.”  
Odin nodded once. His blue eye finally took its sight off Freya and found its way to her father. “I will respect your culture in this, just as you and your family will respect our own in Asgard.”  
Njord gestured in agreement.  
“Oh yeah, gotta keep the bitch pure huh?” Thor barked sarcastically. “I bet she’s as tight as a boar's mouth down there.”  
Freya knew better, she remained quiet. The best way to handle a spoiled brat like him was to ignore him completely.  
Thor narrowed his eyes at Freya after getting no response from her, he then let loose a sinister chuckle as he leaned closer to Freyr. “Then again, if you're all that’s been dicking her I assume her cunt still has a decent amount of grip still left.”

The last thing Freya remembered was her brother lunging towards Thor with his sword in hand. 

 

* * *

The all too familiar fuzziness of her father’s temporal magic weighed heavily in her senses. He must've stopped time, knowing he and Odin were the only ones immune to his spell. Her brother was still passed out next to her in their father’s study. Freya leaned over in order to examine him for any new injuries. He was fine, except for the scar still left behind by her future husband’s deadly strike. She smoothed his hair out from his face gently before cupping his cheek.  
Her little brother. She’d do anything for him, to keep him safe.  
But, _this?_  
This self-sacrifice she was about to commit herself to?  
Freyr groaned pitifully in his slumber, leaning into her touch right before his sapphire eyes opened and found their way to her own. Freya smiled tenderly at him, resolve washing over her.  
Yes, even _this_ she'd do to protect him. 

“That little outburst cost us greatly, Freyr,” their father said while reading through a scroll.  
Freyr jolted up away from Freya’s embrace, “You can't just expect me to keep silent while that freak disrespects us like that!” He says.  
“You’re right,” Njord said in agreement. Both siblings looked at each other quickly before back to their father. “Odin and I came to the understanding that our sons aren't mature enough to live under the same roof just yet. The Vanir are welcomed in the security of Asgard, in 50 winters.”  
“What!?” Freya shouted.  
“Did I stutter, child?” Njord narrowed his eyes towards her. Rarely did Freya speak to her father in such a tone, she herself was taken back by her own outburst.  
“Freya will wed and bed the Alfather tomorrow’s eve. She will live in Asgard, birth Odin a son, and take on the voice of and title of Leader of the Vanir. In 50 winters, the Vanir will transition from our home here to the castle’s in the rainbow sky.” Njord looks at Freyr with stern eyes. “Hopefully half a century separated from constant war will settle tensions and allow wisdom and maturity to blossom in some of us.”  
Freyr sat on the ground with his fists clenched above his knees. “You’d give her to the wolves, just like that?”  
"It's done," Njord stood up and began to exit the room, pausing by Freyr for only a moment. “Ruin this for us and I’ll kill you myself.”  
Freya struggled to clear her mind as she watched her brother sink deeper and deeper in his own madness. “I’m not a sheep Freyr, I’ll be alright.”  
Freyr crossed his arms over his knees and buried his head inside them. “No, you won’t, and once again, it’s all my fault.” 

* * *

* * *

The wedding ceremony was unlike anything she ever dreamed of. Familiar faces intermingled with countless strangers, some she recognized from the battlefield. Though, there was one face missing she noticed.  
_Where was the god of war?_  
As Njord lead her to the side of Odin she peered through a silken blue body length veil to catch a glimpse of him. He stood tall and proud, wearing his wealth for all to see. A pressed velvet jerkin with a black floor-length feathered cloak draped from his shoulders. Upon his head rest a hauntingly simplistic golden crown with 9 different colored gemstones floating in runic energy above it.  
He was attractive she convinced herself, in an untraditional way a man would be considered attractive. He wasn't muscular like his son, yet, all of his proportions were broad.  
His face was unusual, she thought. He was gangly but for some reason, his facial features sparked the fire of her attraction to him. He possessed a long face with a sizable nose and full lips, speckles of his shaved silver beard shimmered like diamonds through his tan skin. Strange that he would shave his facial hair off today of all days?  
Once her father brought her hands to rest upon his own she felt the veil lift away from her body. Her dress was white with detachable bell sleeves the length of the dress itself. Her lips were painted red and her eyes lined with charcoal. Against her wishes, but by the request of his own, her wings were tied back behind her in a silk scarf with dozens of silver bells peppered throughout the length of the white cloth. She wore her hair down loose and free of jewelry for the ceremony, a few strands fell unruly in her eyes at the removal of the veil. Odin smoothed them away from her face with a touch uncommonly gentle from what she expected of him. His eye betrayed him for a moment. He was obviously keeping a stoic face for the audience, but for a fluttering instant, Freya found him looking upon her in breathtaking awe. 

“Shall we begin?” Mimir spoke happily between them, a rune etched ribbon held in his hands.  
They both turned to face him as the ceremony began. 

* * *

The gifts were endless, just like the line of people who offered them. Where the handfasting ceremony was as silent as the night, the reception was as noisy as a battlefield. The chattering of newly forged alliances built upon alcohol and full bellies rang loudly in her ears. On each table sat a whole roasted boar, baked apples, bitter cheese, and endless flasks of wine. Odin sat underneath Freya on his throne, a horn of mead in one hand, her own hand held securely in his other.  
Occasionally he would nod his head at a gift that would catch his fancy, mostly he remained silent as the gifts were presented.  
Freya found herself struggling to find a proper and comfortable position on his lap to sit in, but the ever-present gaze of her father reminded her to keep Odin happy.  
Her wings remained tied back and draping over his armrest, her legs kept pressed together while sandwiched between his own. She felt his drunken breath exhale into her bare back, sending goosebumps down her spine. When Odin noticed her skin's reaction he would bring their joined hands up to his lips and press the back of her hand into his mouth.  
“Next,” he called before taking another drink.  


A small golden-haired toddler approached them, a beautiful intricate weaved basket in her hands. Beside her stood an attractively slender young man dressed in black.  
“Idunn,” Odin smiles somewhat sweetly at the little girl beaming happily at him.  
The young man encourages her forward. “Go on sister,” he says in a velvety voice.  
Shyly she offers Freya her basket filled with yellow apples.  
Freya reaches for one, unable to resist returning the girl’s contagious smile. “Thank you, sweetling, may I?” She asks, bringing the apple up to her lips.  
Idunn’s face flushes red before she nods her head.  
As her teeth sink into the flesh of the fruit she feels a rush of tenacity from her throat that began strengthening her fortitude.  
The sensation didn't hurt, but it frightened her by its intensity. In response, Freya gasped audibly. The once chattering hall quickly fell to a chilling silence.  
The young man next to Idunn quickly places a hand onto the child's shoulders, pulling her back away from Freya and Odin ever so slightly.  
Odin kept still below her, his smile all but vanished as his eyebrows descended down his face sharply. Freya picked up on the misunderstood situation and acted quickly to resolve it. “Simply delicious! Did you grow these? What a truly gifted talent you have precious one.”  
Her new husband brought his drink back to his lips, and with that, the feasting commotion continued around them. The young man quickly rushes Idunn away with a deep bow of his head. 

As the next set of gifts are presented at their feet Freya finds her brother sitting alone at his table, drunker than she’s ever seen him before. Thor must have also noticed him, he began tottering over, several of his Aesir brothers alongside him.  
Freya couldn't hear what her brother muttered to him, but it didn't sit well with Thor.  
The red-haired Aesir god dumped his horn of mead overtop the Vanir god’s head as the gods around him howled in laughter. With that, Freyr flung his chair backward as he stood up to face down, or - up, the god of thunder.  
Odin kept quiet as his eye focused on them, she had to do something.  
“Allfather,” Freya said softly. His single eye drifted over to her as the upheaval in the hall continued. Mimir’s voice frantically urging the two gods to calm down.  
Freya brought the apple in her hands up to Odin’s mouth lovingly. Offering him a bite from the same side her mouth had already eaten from.  
Her new king’s eyebrows softened as he leaned into her hand. His single eye penetrated her in a way no one had ever done so before. He took a bite of the fruit while still resting in her hands. A small bit of juice dribbled down his chin but Freya quickly caught it with the back of her finger, wiping upwards until she touched his lips.  
As if time itself had stilled and the great hall had emptied, the two of them allowed this moment to last.  
Was Odin successfully falling for her?  
She beamed with pride inside as she envisioned her vines slowly slithering their way over his heart and mind. She was always stronger than him on the battlefield, this new position she found herself in only added to her power over him.  
She could rule the Aesir through his love for her in no time, she thought to herself. 

She was thankful he shaved his beard, else this tender moment would've never come to fruition.  
_His lips, they really were quite entrancing._

A whistle emerged from the crowd, aimed at the two of them locked in each other's eyes. Freya broke away from his stare and grinned embarrassingly at the realization of the room gawking at them.  
“Go on! Take what’s yours!” One of the voices called joyfully as a surge of cheers encouraged them.  
For the first time, Freya saw Odin smile. Throwing his horn of ale in front of him Odin snatched Freya’s chin possessively in his hand. He forced her lips open with his own and kissed her violently to the joyful cheering of every member present in the great hall, every person except for her brother. Shocked by this sudden dominion of her, Freya quickly played along and placed her two hands onto his chest, ignoring the discomfort of his teeth bashing into her own as he thrashed his alcohol-soaked tongue throughout her mouth.  
She tried fluttering her wings but remembered how they were bound together with rich silk and silver bells.  
The cheers quickly subsided when the next guests approached the two still locked together in a moment of passion. Odin noticed them first and pulled away from her lips with a smile still on his face.  


“My friends!” He shouted joyfully, patting an open hand onto Freya’s bottom inappropriately. She swallowed her pride at his gesture all while understanding its meaning and stood up with her dignity still intact.  
Odin rose himself to extend his hands out to the two short pale-skinned young men before them.  
They were dwarfs, the famed dwarfs that forged Thor’s new hammer.  
The shorter one with a head full of curly black hair reached his hand out to shake Odin’s. Strangely, his arms had a blue hue oxidating upwards from his fingers.  
The taller of the two dwarfs stood proudly, holding a golden box with their shared brand imprinted onto the metal with clean but ungloved hands. He spoke first to Freya, “a gift for our new queen.”  
Freya smiled down at him thankfully as she peered into the box, inside sat an extravagantly crafted crown garnished with sapphires and diamonds. Freya gasped at the craftsmanship of the metalwork, braided golden vines with etched thorns accompanying them. Falcon feathers were scattered throughout the crown, each one carved by hand and soldered onto the frame. On the back, rather untactfully, was their dual serpent brand.  
“This is…” She couldn't find the words to express her awe. “Thank you.” She told both of them. Odin took the crown from her hands and inspected it quickly, the shorter dwarf joining his brother’s side with both their hands held crossed behind their backs.  
The short dwarf with blue hands spoke gruffly, “Knowing we played a role in bringing about peace throughout the realms.” He stopped to turn and look at Thor with a wide smile before pressing both hands onto his heat, “it brings tears to the eye.”  
Odin’s eyebrow lifted as well as the edges of his lips. He gestured for Mimir to retrieve the gift. The robe wearing adviser quickly took the crown from his hands and brought it out of Freya's sight.  
The taller dwarf spoke again, “We're ever so grateful to take part in this ceremony, and grateful to you, your grace, for finding a way for _all_ races to know peace.”  
Odin nodded his head at the two as he moved to sit back down onto his throne. Mimir soon reappeared into the great hall with the crown still in his hands. The horned man moved behind Freya and placed it atop her head.  
Odin sat slightly slouched on his throne with legs stretched casually out in front of him. “To your new queen! To peace throughout the eight realms!”  
Eight? Freya noticed, so did the dwarfs as they quickly shared a look. But before she could correct him the halls erupted in thunderous applause directed at Freya.  
She kept her shoulders tall and smiled proudly at the room full of her new subjects. 

* * *

She felt lightheaded as she strolled the halls of the castle. She held onto Odin’s hand securely, she trusted her balance, she was far from being that drunk, but the exhaustion of how long today had been was starting to settle into her body. Odin kept quiet as he walked one stride in front of her. They approached a massive black and silver door, two ravens perched on iron bars made specifically for them. Huginn and Muninn, the bane of her existence over the past few years of war. They kept silent as their green foggy eyes followed her. What she would give to pluck all four of them out of their heads and wear them around her neck. Miserable pests. As Odin casts a spell onto the door in order to open it she sneaks in an opportunity to glare intimidatingly at them, before being lead through the now open door by Odin’s hand. They both release a shivering scream as her back was turned, causing her to jump and gasp audibly. Odin quickly places a hand onto the still of her back, below her wings, before bringing her closer to him and further into his chamber. He glanced down at his birds before returning to Freya with a smile that only showed on his lips.  
With a wave of his hands the room illuminated in light. It was a mess. Books scattered throughout, each opened to a specific page. Scrolls littering almost every inch of his shelves, broken writing quills and empty glass jars once filled with ink. The bed was the only thing unblemished with literature, except for a massive map sprawled out for her to see. Or, she thought it was a map, instead, it appeared to be of a realm she’d never been to. Bizarre unreadable runes scribbled all over the territories. Symbols printed in a shimmery yellow were stamped boldly at the bottom. **“ΟΛΥΜΠΟΣ”** It was all pure gibberish to her.  
She realized sitting underneath this map lay her marriage bed. Her heart rate began to increase as she looked at the brilliantly crafted tapestry that adorned the walls above the carved wooden headboard. 

“You, must enjoy literature?” Freya said awkwardly, attempting to break the silence in the room and soothe her own anxiety.  
Odin brought his right hand up to his eyepatch and slowly began removing it. Freya froze. A sudden cyclone of cold wind engulfed the room. The gust quickly disheveled her hair and beat violently against her wings, the bells adoring the silk cloth rang hauntingly as the grip lost control of her wings and flew off, freeing them only to now struggle against this violent storm. Strangely, none of the scrolls or books moved in the wind, but black runes began peeling away from the parchment little by little. Before long, every single page of text became blank as the inky runes whistled around the room. Odin motioned his chin slightly upwards and with a shock of runic energy, all of the floating text flew violently into the mysterious opening behind his eyepatch. Once the last rune entered his head he carefully slid the eyepatch back down his missing eye. The books and scrolls still exactly where they were, but now every drop of ink missing from them, including the one on his bed.  
“There’s a lesson to be found in every line of text.” Odin approaches her with his hands clasped behind his back. “Perhaps the true knowledge isn't found in the rune itself, but the space between the ink.” Freya imitates his stance, bringing her hands behind her own back, flexing her newly freed wings outwards in a stretch. “I’d love to visit your proper library one day.” She smiles. “If you’d allow me that is.”  
Odin inched closer to her, standing a few breaths apart from touching her. “In time.”

She knew this moment was coming. She was ready. This was far from her first time with a man. Their excuse on not leaving her alone with him until the marriage was all a farce in order to secure the treaty really happened. To prove he was willing to commit to this as he had. She was nervous, but not like she had been the first time she slept with her beloved many years ago. This was different. This was, the two most powerful entities sharing a bed in order to retain peace throughout the 9 realms.  
If this didn’t work out between them, would the lands regress back into war? Would her family endure countless more winters of bloodshed? To her sex was fun, it was a pleasure, it was an act of passion she shared with the one person she loved and trusted. She was unsure what this act should be classified as.  
Sacrifice? Endurance? Victory?  
Odin brought his hand up to her crown and slid it off her head all while keeping his sight locked onto her eyes. Casually, Freya began unlacing her sleeves, allowing the scrunched up fabric fall loosely down her wrists and at Odin's feet. Odin pulled his own crown off his head and tossed it aside. The enchantment keeping his 9 jewels afloat vanished and they all scatter to the ground.  
The room became hauntingly silent. All she could hear was the pulsating throb of her heartbeat surging up her back and into the drums of her ears, accompanied alongside Odin’s quickening breaths.  
She had to participate in this. If she let her hesitation show, he'd take it as a sign of submission. She would not submit to him, she was determined to stand on equal ground next to him. Would he hold back if she showed her discomfort? Freya recalls their battles, whenever she faltered or showed a hint of anxiety would be when his strikes became the most relentless.  
In this dangerous game she's now forced to play, Odin would win if she didn’t match his level of engagement in the bedroom.  


She unlaced the back straps of her dress that allowed her wings to stick out. Sliding her thumbs over the shoulder straps of her wedding dress she slowly slid them down one at a time. The gown soon fell loosely to her ankles revealing her naked body before the now king of all gods.  
In the same way as before, Odin’s lips parted slightly before being firmly pressed together.  
_I’m ready,_ she convinced herself.  
Cold hands found their way to her bottom, Odin squeezed the flesh right below her hip bones. His face was beginning to show his desire, but he remained as silent as the decomposing soldiers they left on Midgard.  
_I’m ready._  
His hands moved upwards, the tips of black feathers that adorned his sleeves left a trail of goosebumps on her skin. She pulled her painted lips into her mouth to taste the sweetened waxy texture with her tongue. His nose sucked in an exaggerated pull of air.  
_I’m ready, I’m ready._  
Odin's right hand cupped her breast, while the left continued its upward attitude towards her neck. The same part she exposed to him the morning of their parley on Midgard. His palm rested on her trachea, fingers disappearing into the back of her neck where wisps of her brown hair began.  
_I’m ready, I’m ready…_ she forced herself to think all while staring at him alluringly.  
He presses his thumb firmly against her jawbone, conducting her into a backpedal towards the bed.  
_I’m not ready, I’m not ready._  
As the back of her knees touches the soft down of their marriage bed she smiles seductively at him. Her hands pressed against his chest and begin to move upwards to his face, pulling him into her mouth to lock him into a deep lustful kiss.  
_I can do this. I'll show him, I'll show the whole world. I am the goddess Freya, and I will not be defeated by him._  
No sooner than she retained her mental composure did Odin rip away from their kiss and push her down onto his bed. Freya was unsure what brought about this? An act of violence or a surge of excitement? Her wings and hair sprawled out messily behind her from the act. Her once greatest enemy began undressing in a hectic turbulence before her.  
_I’m ready,_ she assures herself one final time.  
Freya confidently slid her hands over her own breasts and squeezing them provocatively as she moaned a hushed plea. He exhales audibly from his mouth as he climbs his exposed self over top of her and began taking her.

Over, and over, and over again. 

* * *

She woke the next morning to an empty bed, but not an empty room. Odin sat casually at his messy desk. His large nose hidden behind a leather-bound book, eye scanning meticulously over each and every rune. The hardest part was over she thought. A rush of perseverance overcame her, Odin didn’t hurt her last night. He even dedicated himself to seeking out her peak of ecstasy before reaching his own.  
“Good morning my king,” she forced a smile at him with her breasts hidden behind white sheets. With any luck, she'll get into his head, she’ll find a way to control him, manipulate him, tame him.  
Odin quickly looked up from his book and smiled at her. It was a genuine smile she realized, upon witnessing it she found herself no longer needing to force her own. Odin, fully dressed, rose from his chair and made his way to their bed. He sat down next to her and engulfed her right hand into his own. Bringing her wrist to his mouth and kissing her softly before nuzzling his face into the palm of her hand. “A good morning indeed, my queen,” he replied. Freya’s heart skips a beat.  
A sudden knock at their door caused her to break eye contact with him as the black and silver door began to open with his magic. 

Freya suppressed a disconcerted gasp as a young woman entered the room with their breakfast on a brass tray.  
She was, what was the meaning of this horrifying spectacle?  
What is she?  
A servant?  
A slave?  
A, hostage?  
Her eyes were blindfolded with trails of blackened blood casting down from where her eyes were kept hidden. Her lips were sewn together with a silver thread, each penetration of the muzzle left her skin black and decaying. Around her neck, a thick leather color with a glowing rune inscribed into the center. A tracking rune she realized. Her ankles were shackled together in chains etched with the same brand that adorned her new crown. Unphased by this broken girl's appearance, Odin approached her to retrieve the tray from her black and blue hands and returned to their bed.  
Freya studied her, freckles, auburn hair, her figure was broad and curvy and this.... her, aura she gave off? Freya quickly picked up on what was going on. 

This girl, she was a Giant.


	2. Their queen

Freya ignored Odin placing the tray of food down next to her. Instead, her mind was cycling through a nauseating realization of what stood before her. The enslaved giantess stood silently at the entrance of Odin's black and gold doorway. She felt her stomach sicken as she noticed the severity of her state. The flesh around her collar, it was covered in red and purple blister marks. The same marks her brother Freyr would leave on her when they were fledglings first discovering their sexuality. 

“You should eat while the food is still warm my love. Unless…-” Odin reached one hand under the thin veneer of silk sheets covering Freya’s naked legs. The tips of his fingers were cold as they passed along a trail of his crusted seed still left on her inner thigh. His intentions were obvious by this action, but she was too focused on this girl to notice his caress inching closer and closer to her opening. 

“Explain why she looks like this, now!” Immediately, Freya regretted the tone at which she spoke. She knew the dangerous game she was playing for the next 50 years. She wasn't afraid of Odin. In the past, he had managed to land several devastating blows to her with his spear. With her hands still holding the sheets around her breast, she feels for a raised line of skin on her ribcage. The only scar on her otherwise unblemished body, given to her by the man she whimpered so pleadingly to last night.  
She learned quickly to never allow Odin to get that close to her on the battlefield. Her magic far out outmatched his brute strength. But to act so abruptly to him here and now, not even a full day after their ceremony?  
If Freya allowed her sharp tongue get the better of her she knew she’d be more than capable of defending herself against him.  
But all those soldiers left on Midgard...

How many more bodies would cover the forests all because of her inability to hold her tongue? In order to protect the realms, she’d have to do a better job maintaining her composure around him. 

Removing his hand from underneath the sheets, Odin stood from their bed and strolled over to the giantess. She stood hauntingly still with her hands clasped in front of her.  
“Oh?” He said as he placed his finger underneath her chin and lifted it up.  


“Little Loki here?”  


Freya narrowed her eyes as she watched the small girl begin to quiver in Odin’s clutches. Her sewn lips muffled panicking tufts of terror as she stuttered several quick breaths in through her nose. Odin stood tall over the giantess rubbing his thumb across the girl’s mutilated mouth. Flakes of her chapped skin began pulling away from her colorless lips. He removed his thumb from her to lick it with his tongue. With a gentle touch, he brought the wet digit back to her lips as if to moisturize them. Freya narrowed her eyes as she watched the giantess begin visibly trembling.  
“This little trickster means to kill my son.” Her disdain for the situation dampened only slightly upon hearing the woman’s crimes. Still, she still rejected his treatment of her.

“Tell me,” Odin turned his face to look at Freya, “what would you do to the person that killed your son?” Freya expected his single eye to be riddled in arrogant pride, but she was wrong. Instead, Odin appeared genuinely interested in her response. Freya glanced over to the meal the giantess brought them. Any appetite she once had was gone thanks in part to the given situation. She thought about what she would do if Freyr died, what she would do to the person who killed him. Her mind fizzled into a sea of twisted violence, at the thought of losing someone she loved so deeply. She’d show no mercy in the ways she would destroy the deplorable monster who took her Freyr away from her. She would parade his cold dead body around every corner of every realm.  
Retaining her outward composure, Freya reached for a small fig on the tray and returned her gaze to the only man who ever came close to killing her brother.

“I don’t know, I don’t have a son.” She said, forcing herself to take a bite of the fig.  
Odin smiled pridefully, or maybe pitifully at her, it was hard to tell with him.  
“The love a parent has for their child.” He taps the giantess lightly on her cheek a few times before walking back towards Freya. “Well, it’s difficult to describe the raw desire to keep that child safe to someone who isn't a parent themselves.” He sat down next to Freya and, with the same hand that he violated the giantess with, cupped her cheek lovingly. “In time, you’ll understand. And hopefully, you'll see that my methods of dealing with outsiders that seek to hurt my family aren't an act of cruelty,” Odin leaned his face closer to her own, his hand moved away from her cheek and found the outline of her right wing, “but of love.”  
With the fig still in her mouth he ended the separation between them with his mouth. Freya wasn't ready for the kiss, accidentally pushing a few chunks of the fig into her husband’s mouth because of it. Odin forced the kiss to continue until a chuckle from his smiling lips broke the passion. When he laughed the tips of his ears turned red and two dimples appeared on his cheeks. Freya enjoyed seeing a smile so genuine come from Odin, but she couldn't help but notice the silhouette of the abused giantess behind him.  
“Fortune smiles upon me, my own fig tree to eat from and take comfort under.” He found her left hand with his own and placed a kiss onto the back of her wrist. Freya's heart swelled at his words, allowing her palm to outline his cheeks.  
Her eyes glanced over at the giantess before back into his own. Something about this just didn't make sense? Odin only has one son, Thor. Did this girl really pose a threat to such a strong and powerful god that it warranted all-- _this?_ This girl, Loki, she was so, young. 

 

The sound of chains jingling broke Odin’s focus on Freya. His eye darted over to leer at the giantess, as if her moving the slightest inch had insulted or threatened him. A rasping voice echoed from behind the girl, “I always miss all the fun.”  
A large man welcomed himself into their bedroom, ignoring Odin’s ravens cawing at him. A tall pointed hat and a short black beard adored his face, along with glowing eyes the same as Mimir's.  
“What sort of man doesn't attend his brother’s own wedding?” Odin said with a cocky smile. 

Realization began to flourish in Freya’s mind at who this was. The god returned Odin’s smile as he strolled around the room, readjusting some of the gaudy decor and books scattered throughout the room.  
She found herself clutching the sheets uncomfortably around her breast as the unknown man made himself at home in the room she was currently naked in.  
“You know I hate all that shit,” he said as he poured himself a goblet of water off their breakfast tray. “I almost didn't come back from this one. The weather there, spectacular! ”  
Odin turned his head to examine the giantess cautiously before lowering his voice ever so lightly.  
“You spoke to Zeus?”  
The man’s expression shifted to match Odin’s, keeping his eyes on the liquid in the goblet.  
“I mentioned, parts, of Groa’s vision, regarding a tattooed son he recently sired.”  
The sound of Huginn and Muninn screaming in unison startled Freya away from the conversation. Odin narrowed his eyebrows disapprovingly as the other man refused to look away from his drink.  
Freya’s initial embarrassment evolved into annoyment as the man continued to not acknowledge her existence. 

“Excuse me?” she said.  
Odin’s face softened, “Brother, bow, shake hands, or practice whatever new culturally acceptable thing you've picked up from your travels to your new queen.”  
Freya squirmed internally at the idea of her letting go of the sheet covering up her breasts in order to shake this man’s hands.  
“If it pleases you, my love, I’d prefer to greet your family under more,” Freya gestured to her body with her eyes, “more respectable settings.”  
Odin walked behind his brother and snatched the goblet from his hands. “Don’t worry you’re not his type,” he chuckled. 

“I long to meet you outside the battlefield one day my lady.” The man winked slyly at her away from Odin’s vision. “I go by many names, but you may call me Tyr.”  
Tyr, the god of war.  
Image of stone statues emotionlessly slaughtering Freya’s warriors ripped into her vision. She fought this man many times, but never once did she manage to see him up close like this. His over-familiarity was off-putting, all she knew of the Aesir was violence and spite. Seeing Tyr and Odin interacting like this in front of her.  
Maybe they weren't the monsters from the tales father would read to her and Freyr before bed?  
“Thank you for taking care of my brother,” Tyr said as he wrapped an arm around Odin’s shoulders. “If he gives you too much trouble use that one realm shift spell you pulled on him during our battle at Veithurgard.” Odin’s face frowned with disapproval, “Tyr…” He rumbled while still being snared under his arm.  
“I’ll never forget how furious you were! She got yah good that day brother!” Tyr barked out a hearty chuckle as Odin shook his head with a smile.  
Freya couldn't help but smile along with them all while sneaking a few more glances at the giantess, still standing as stiff as a board. A line of drool was leaking down one of the openings of her sewn lips. There was dampness on her cheeks, she must've started crying at some point. Freya assumed it was right as Odin began touching her with his wet finger.  
A crash of thunder echoed throughout the castle walls, followed by drunken screaming.  
Tyr sighed and walked away from Odin. “Here we go…” He said as he made his way to the door, placing himself slightly in front of the giantess. 

“If you will excuse me for a moment. Perhaps it’s best if you dress for the day. Loki, he’s looking for you.” Odin said calmly as he began to exit the room as well. The giantess began visibly sobbing behind Tyr.  
“Wait,” Freya felt the sudden urge to help this woman. “My dress, I need help putting it on. D-do I have a chambermaid yet?”  
“I’ll ask Mimir to find you some personal servants,” Odin replied.  
“What about her?” Freya said pointing to Loki, causing Tyr to freeze in place, the light from his jeweled eyes dimming ever so slightly.  
“No, she’s not to leave me or my son’s side.” Odin didn’t wait for her response. He waved his hand and the door shut behind the three of them, leaving Freya alone in the bedroom. 

“ **Loki!** ” Thor could be heard drunkenly, “ **come meet my new horse!** ”

* * *

* * *

Freya sat quietly in front of her mirror as her two servants finished preparing her body and hair for the day. The morning following her wedding to Odin Mimir introduced her to Hildisvíni and Gullveig. She didn’t need servants, with her magic she could prepare herself in any style necessary. But in her rush to try and help the giantess she now foolishly found herself in the ownership of two humans. She couldn't complain too much, Mimir did a halfway decent job finding humans she enjoyed the company of. The three of them even shared a fondness for magic. Gullveig idolized seiðr magic, a type of magic Freya often found dirty and beneath her. But the way she appreciated its delicate balance and sacrifice warmed Freya’s heart to it. The two of them traded a few spells, albeit smaller non-impactful ones. Freya taught her a spell to make a man love her to the point of madness, Gullveig taught Freya how to reanimate a decapitated head. Bother made each other laugh at the ridiculous obscurity of these simplistic spells. 

Hildisvíni was a shy young man that idolized Freya and shapeshifting magic of the giants. At first, she found herself a bit disturbed by his presence. She was used to other’s admiring her, but to have one around her this often? She found herself losing patience with him on multiple occasions, for reasons she struggled to pinpoint. He adored her, but ever since her marriage to Odin, she fell further and further away from adoring herself. How long until there was nothing left of the great warrior she once was? How long until she was just a shadow living underneath Odin like all the rest? To see this man’s adoration of her for who she is, it made the inevitable fruition of her destiny harder to swallow.  
The young man was nevertheless resilient in following her orders, somehow that annoyed her even more. Where Gullveig was a person, Hildisvíni was more aligned with a pet. She could strike him in the face yet he’d turn his cheek and smile brightly, eagerly listen to anything she’d have to say. 

 

Freya thanked the two of them as they left her chamber. Now adored in a terracotta hangerock with her sword attached to her hip she took to touching up Gullveig’s patchy application of eyeliner. Odin asked her to join him in the fields of Midgard today. She wasn't sure what to expect from this arrangement, but she was more than happy to take any opportunity to leave the castle. Ever since she objected to the way the Aesir kept and treated the criminal Loki, Odin had handed full responsibility of watching over her to Thor.  
Freya never again saw the girl after her first day, but she along with the entire castle couldn't help but overhear Loki’s muffled streams as the god of thunder defiled and mutilated her multiple times a day.  
In her spare time, Freya would think up ways to try and free the woman. Her temporal magic was a possibility, but she’d have no idea where to hide the giantess. Jotunheim? No, that’s too reckless. If Odin’s prisoner somehow ended up in Jotunheim that would cause even more friction between the giants and the Aesir. Thor would claim it treason, that the giants conspired to work together with an enemy of Asgard.  
She had enough free time on her hands, surely she would think up a way to help this poor girl. But in the meantime, Loki would have to wait.

Freya closed her eyes and felt the air pierce her scenes. If she focused hard enough, she could hear Loki crying all alone several rooms away. She was struggling to breathe Freya noticed. With her lips sealed shut all she really had was her nose to breath from. The giantess would pull in the air in frantically but all Freya heard was her stuffed up nose blocking it. She was panicking, and most likely still bleeding after Thor's last visit. Freya concentrated harder, finally hearing her heartbeat. It sounded, bizarre? Almost as if she could hear two hearts beating inside this woman. No, it couldn't be? She thought with a disgusting realization, was she...?

 

With her concentration fully focused on listening to the giantess, Mimir snuck up on her. “Your majesty?”  
Startled, she gasped at the sight of the horned man standing right beside her. She was used to Mimir reeking of ale and stumbling around in a drunken stooper.  
“A thousand apologies my queen. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Mimir said, equally startled. Freya was running out of time to help the giantess, with each passing day her conditions worsen.  
Mimir, would he be willing to help her? Was he an ally to be trusted? There was no way, he was Odin's puppet and nothing more. All he was useful for was shaving down the sharpest edges of Odin's cruel jurisdiction and make it more palatable for other's to swallow.  
He _was_ in close relations with the giants though. Then again, so was Tyr, but the god of war allowed this treachery to go on under his nose. She had to tread lightly here. 

Gracefully, she stood up from her chair and nodded her head once to the ambassador. “My husband is waiting for me?” She said.  
Mimir smiled charmingly to her, “Aye m’lady, as is another, hmm, _very_ important person, Both are waiting at the council of…-”  
“Do the Giants know what Thor is doing to one of their own?” She interrupted him in a soft but stern voice.  
The smile on Mimir’s face disappeared, “I assure you, it is for the betterment of the realms Loki remains here in Asgard.”  
Freya clenched her fist, “Torturing and raping a young woman? Truly? That's what’s keeping the nine realms together?”  
The lighting in her room faded as he shut both his eyes, “I…-”  
Freya could see the surge of guilt besiege the rest of his words.  
Maybe Mimir could be trusted?  
She got all the info she needed from him for now. “Funny, didn't you once tell Njord my marriage to Odin would be the key to keeping the realm together?” With that, she walked out of the room and began making her way to her husband.

* * *

Visiting Midgard in the spring was one of Freya’s favorite memories as a child. Midgard was one of the few places her father would allow her and Freyr to adventure all on their own. They would spend their days watching all the races coming together in constructing a temple for the Aesir god of war. She had never before seen so many animals living together in harmony under one sky. They all played a delicate role in the branches of life, to remove one creature from existence would disrupt the fragile balance the land sustained.  
What Freya would give to spend one more day in the forests alone with only her thoughts... 

A surge of powerful runic energy left goosebumps on the back of her neck. As she approached her husband she saw the source of such terrifying magic.  
The Valkyries.  
They stood in their ethereal forums surrounding Odin, each donning a helmet representing an animal. Thankfully, Freya had never met the Valkyries before. She knew of their importance and respected them for their absolute dedication to their craft. Even with the Alfather breathing down their necks.  
The intricate detailing of their armored wings mesmerized her. Each feather inscribed with a runic incantation, some seemed in memoriam to their previous lives, others to enhance their magical abilities. Their design left Freya feeling somewhat naked when it came to her own natural wings. She wished she would have knows she was to meet with them today, else she wouldn't have worn something so dainty.  
Sigrun, dressed in gold and red, kneeled down before Freya. All but two of the remaining eight Valkyries imitated Sigrun.  
Olrun and Hildr, Odin’s most faithful and loyal of the group remained standing. Freya was unable to see their faces, but it was clear by their body language they didn't approve of this yet.  
Only after Odin nodded his head in compliance did they too finally kneel before Freya. 

 

A smile appeared on the Allfather’s lips, but the expression failed to reach his eye. He stood tall as the nine women knelt before her. “My gift to you.” Pulled away from her thoughts by his words, Freya stood dumbfoundingly, unsure what her response should be to any of this. 

“What? You're giving me, them? To, what, lead?” Never in her life had she felt a burden of responsibilities weigh as heavily as it was now. This isn't a gift, these aren't simple soldiers for her to command.  
These are the Valkyrie.  
The Vanir and Aesir were fighting for scraps of land and titles to boost egos and pride.  
These nine women upheld the very balance of life itself. Did Odin truly trust in her that much to justify such a handoff of power?  
In the weeks since she’d become his queen, he had showered her in gifts. Gold, jewels, servants, but it was all so, domestic. She made sure to play the role of a happy wife, thus she got the simple gifts such a demure woman would get.  
But, _this?_  
This time-consuming responsibility. Pride began to swell in Freya’s mind. Her thoughts rushed through all the good she could do. Instead of threatening the other races with her jurisdiction over them like Odin had, she could bind the races together and help heal the land from war. She could work together with Eir and help heal the plagues that began forming in dwarven cities. Freya’s wings flexed in delight, for the first time in weeks she stood tall and proud. She found a new purpose. 

If she wanted, she could even allow the great warriors of Jotunheim entryway into Valhalla... 

 

Odin violently crushed his lips into her own, shocking Freya with his actions. She thought little of it, returning his kiss immediately, but struggling to match his passion. His hands began groping her breasts and pulling away from the first layer of fabric that covered them. Freya pulled away from his lips, still seeing the Valkyrie kneeling around her. “What, what are you doing?”  
“You don’t like my gift?” He asked, still keeping his hands on her chest.  
“Of course I love it, I’ve never felt so honored to…-” She was silenced by his mouth again, this time his tongue sweeping violently against her own. His breath suffocating her words out from existence. With his strength, he ripped open the fabric covering her breast. Freya gasped as the cool air touched her nipples, but they didn't stay cold for long. He tore away from her face and down to suck on them violently. Biting and squeezing them painfully.  
“Odin…” Freya said tactfully, she didn’t want to anger him or do anything to ruin this new chapter in her life.  
If she insulted him, or he misunderstood her hesitation as a sign of not appreciate his gift, would he take it all back? Would he continue to rule the Valkyries with an iron fist and use this power to boost his own families betterment? She had a real chance to bring some good to the realms, she couldn't afford to mess this up.

Freya stood awkwardly as Odin fondled her in front of the nine most powerful women in existence. He reached his hands under her dress and pulled away from the fabric. “Show me.” He said as he began to turn her around and leaned her forward. “Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.” Freya’s was struggling to breathe as she stood all but naked facing the other women. They kept silent with their heads bowed as Odin began unlacing his trousers.  
“Odin, please.” She whispered, embarrassment was causing her tongue to tie and her knees to lock. “Not like this.”  
“Oh?” Odin said as he held himself in one hand and with the other reached to grab her neck. “You’re right, we should try something, different.”  
Freya contemplated stopping time, snaring Odin with her magic and killing the Allfather right here.  
But then what?  
Disappear and bring about the dawn of a new war between their families?  
Could she truly slay Odin in front of the Valkyries? Would Olrun and Hildr allow her to get away with it?  
The golden dragon on Sigrun’s helmet lifted upwards as the woman stared at Freya. Before she could decipher the expression her glowing eyes were giving her, Odin twisted Freya around and onto her knees.  
Before shoving himself inside her mouth. 

 

In front of the 9 women that would now call her their queen.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on  
> [Tumblr ](https://farore5.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Farore5) for updates on when the next chapter is comming out. Or check out my other [God of War Fanfics.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731989/chapters/34054095)


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